


Untitled 'Nightwing #103' reaction ficlet

by SharpestRose



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-29
Updated: 2011-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 20:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose





	Untitled 'Nightwing #103' reaction ficlet

Jason's tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth and he can't stop thinking about Santa Claus.

About going to the mall with his mom when he was five years old, and not caring that she was in a bad mood because Dad had blown the Christmas bonus and she was gonna have to scrimp on presents again. Not caring about anything, except a sick excited sort of feeling in his stomach.

Jason was gonna find out if Santa was real or not.

He remembers sitting on the fat guy's lap and asking for the same crap he always asked for - a dog, a racing car, a set of GI Joes - and working up his courage. Then, he grabbed onto the fluffy white beard with both hands, and it came away from the guy's chin. Two thin bands of elastic straining against the poor jerk's overheated cheeks before snapping back as Jason let go.

It had been weird. Jason's heart had done a little flip up into his throat, because that was that. Things were as bad as he'd suspected, and now he knew for sure, and all he could do was deal with it and move on.

He can't stop thinking about it now, because this is just the same. He's tied to a chair in the middle of a cave and his wrists are hurting and the corners of his mouth are hurting and Batman's out there, somewhere, in the dark.

Things are just as bad as Jason had suspected.

He's a crook.

There was a time, once, where he thought he was the kinda guy that got saved by guys like Batman. A poor kid, down on his luck, nobody around to help him...

But no. He's a thief and a con artist and he would've grown up to be a hired muscle or a gangster's yes-man, just like his Dad, and now he knows it for sure. Because Batman's gonna kill him or torture him or force him to turn stoolie or whatever, and everyone knows Batman only does that if you're seriously lousy.

Mabel who lives two blocks down from Jason's place swears that Batman beat the shit out of her pimp this one time. Tony's one of the biggest bastards Jason knows, and Tony only got a broken hand and some cracked teeth.

Jason never meant to be a bad guy. Stuff just happened. Tires were an easy way to get good money, and seemed a safe enough line to get into. Nobody ever got offed for ripping off a Whitewall, right?

Right?

He's never gonna see Mabel again. She's got this great way of making eggs so they turn out all creamy in the middle. She says it's all about being patient enough to let them cool down in the pan, but Jason doesn't have eggs often enough to really get the hang of it.

She tells the dumbest jokes. He's got one stuck in his head right now.

 _What has eight legs and four ears?_   
_Two dogs._

Only joke Jason knows about two dogs is the one about the tourists who meet the Indian in the casino and ask his name, and he says it's 'Two Dogs With A Bucket Of Water Being Poured Over Them', because that's the first thing his dad saw when he stuck his head out of the tent after the kid was born. And the tourists say 'fuck, you poor sonofabitch, that's an awful name'. And he says 'nah, my twin brother was born a coupla minutes before me and his name's worse'. So the tourists go 'oh, lemme guess, he's called Two Dogs Fighting'. And the Indian guy starts laughing and laughing.

Jason told that one to Mabel once, and she said he had a dirty mind. He pointed out that at least his jokes weren't cribbed out of the kiddie pages of the newspaper.

Just after Jason's mom died, Mabel went to hide out in Bludhaven for a couple of weeks. She came back eventually, but until then Jason had no idea where she'd gone to. The loneliness had felt like a punch, hard and fast below his ribs.

He's gotta get out of here. His wrists hurt from where he was trying to pull them loose earlier, and his mouth tastes like crap. He understands why it's called a gag, now. He keeps dry-retching against the feel of it in his mouth, and the only noises he can make are muffled and choked.

That's okay. He's gotta stay calm. It's okay that he can't call out, because it'd be a stupid idea to do that. He's in Batman's secret lair, so anyone in earshot would be trouble anyway.

He's been down here long enough for his eyes to have adjusted to the dark a little, but every time he tries to focus on the shadows they end up watering and stinging a little.

He's _not_ gonna cry.

He's a crook and there's no Santa and his mom's dead and his dad's never gonna know what happened to him and Jason's just a kid and he doesn't want to die and he didn't mean to turn out bad and he's not gonna cry.

He gags again and thinks he can hear a small sound from somewhere near behind him, like someone's watching.

Maybe this is a test. Maybe, if he can get himself free, he can go.

He pulls against the bindings on his wrists as hard as he can, and wonders how much pressure it takes to dislocate a thumb.

Footsteps. There's footsteps somewhere, and a voice calling for someone named Dick.

He's not going to cry out he's not going to cry out he's not -

"Help!" Jason screams, but it comes out as a panicked whine.

Oh, thank Christ, it's some old English guy who doesn't seem to wanna hurt Jason or anything. He unties the gag and Jason's too busy gasping for air he didn't even know he wasn't getting to notice anything else for a minute.

When he starts paying attention again, he realises that the old guy's talking to Batman like they're old pals. The disappointment and fear Jason feels is ten times worse than before, because for a second there he thought he might actually get out of this.

Batman's asking for... sandwiches?

Jason can't remember the last time he had food, and it's pathetic how grateful he feels to think that at least he's gonna eat before he dies. He never made it up to Annette down at the market for all those times he swiped bread rolls off her after the lunchtime rush, or that twenty he borrowed from her till. Now he never will. He'll die with all that stupid garbage still stuck to his conscience.

He's sick and scared and his throat's burning and the old guy's leaving. Jason wants to cry out, to beg like a snotty little kid. _Don't leave me here please please oh God please I'm sorry._

But Batman's got one heavy hand on Jason's shoulder, and it sucks all the noises out of Jason's lungs, and all he can do is stare after the old guy.

 _this can't be happening wait I didn't mean to I'm sorry no please help don't go don't_

He doesn't stop.

It's funny how that can still feel like a punch.


End file.
